


my door is open, don't leave me hoping

by atlantisairlock



Category: Charlie's Angels (2019), Charlie's Angels (Movies)
Genre: Competition, Cute, F/F, Flirting, Fluff and Crack, Future Fic, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21571963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: Boz gets the sneaking feeling that she's being flirted with... for competition.
Relationships: Elena Houghlin/Jane Kano/Rebekah Bosley/Sabina Wilson
Comments: 21
Kudos: 242





	my door is open, don't leave me hoping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlassesOfJustice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassesOfJustice/gifts), [washedout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/washedout/gifts).



> for **glassesofjustice** , who asked for all of them fighting for bosley's attention, and also **washedout** , who asked for ot4. 
> 
> NEXT UP ELENA x REBEKAH UNDERCOVER FAKE DATING because i'm a sucker for these two. elena x rebekah + jane x rebekah stans talk to me pls. 
> 
> title from 'want you to know' by asta.

It starts with Sabina - what doesn’t?

More specifically, it starts with Sabina going off the comms while on a solo mission for a good five minutes, leaving Bosley repeating her name in the getaway car with growing alarm as the time passes. Just as she’s about to call it a wash and get backup to retrieve Sabina from whatever danger she’s gotten herself into, said Angel roars up beside the car in a gleaming motorbike and quite nearly scares the shit out of Bosley.

“What the fuck is that?” Bosley demands, rolling down a window to inspect the motorbike a little more closely. “Jesus Christ, Sabina, is that a brand new Suzuki Katana?”

“She’s so gorgeous,” Sabina says, not making any move to get off the bike. She’s grinning unashamed at Bosley, running a hand through her short hair. “I couldn’t just leave her on that fuckface’s estate to be used for evil.”

She’s got a headache coming on, Bosley can just feel it. She sighs. “Sabina, leave the bike.”

Sabina pouts - actually _pouts,_ like she’s a toddler in preschool and not a full-fledged Charlie’s Angel. “Aw, Boz.”

“Don’t _aw, Boz_ me. That thing is a liability, not to mention _stolen._ Leave the bike.”

“He’ll never miss it,” Sabina whines, then revs the bike like it’s supposed to help her case. “Come on, let me show you the moves I can do on this thing. Like when I knocked Hodak off his feet, that time in Hamburg? Have I told you about that time?”

“The time where you let him get away?”

Sabina raises her hands. “Hey, Townsend policy is more de-escalation and less ‘shooting bad guys in the face’, right?”

“Yes,” Bosley agrees. “And Townsend policy is also not to illegally impound a target’s belongings, especially not just because they are ‘so gorgeous’. _Leave_ the bike, Sabina.”

With a groan, Sabina acquieses, easing it back to a corner of the estate and making her way back into the car. “You could have at least let me show you my moves.”

 _Really,_ it’s as if they don’t have a garage full of motorbikes back at headquarters. Bosley gives Sabina a glare that comes out less exasperated and more amused than she intends. “You can show me your ‘moves’ back in the safety of HQ.”

She doesn’t expect Sabina to throw her head back and laugh out loud, the sound full of genuine mirth. “Yeah?”

“Yeah…” Bosley says slowly, and more than a little suspiciously. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing,” Sabina blatantly lies, then grabs at her phone and starts typing something on what looks like a group chat. Bosley rolls her eyes and leaves her to it. The less she knows about whatever Sabina’s up to on her own time, the better.

Charlie tells Bosley to stay involved in Elena’s training as far as possible. The way she was inducted into the Agency was, to put it lightly, a lot more violent and dramatic than most of their recruits. It’ll be a good idea for Bosley, as well as Jane and Sabina, to remain in close contact with her as she acclimatises herself to the surroundings and the culture - make sure she knows she has people she’s already built trust with to count on, to get help from if she needs it.

“Can I get some help with an assignment?” Elena asks her one afternoon, looking a little hesitant, like she doesn’t want to be a bother. Bosley’s pretty determined to make sure none of the recruits ever feel like they can’t turn to her for help, Elena included, so she locks her tablet and puts it aside, giving Elena her full attention. “Of course. Which one?”

“Infiltration. I’ve got a whole list of scenarios and locations in which I have to blend in, and I have to select a full outfit for each one. With pictures of me in them so I show I can pull them off for real.” Elena makes a face. “I think I’ve got the casual situations down, but I don’t know about stuff like cocktail receptions or royal weddings or sex dungeons…”

Bosley frowns, pausing and going over that again. “I don’t remember Saint or Aster including that in the list of scenarios.”

“Aster decided we should be prepared for everything,” says Elena, which Bosley supposes is fair. It wouldn’t be the weirdest place the Angels ever had to infiltrate. Elena gives her a hopeful look. “Give me some tips? And maybe help me take the photos?”

“I’m not going to give you the answers,” Bosley warns. Elena nods in assent, looking eager, so Bosley follows her down to the first wardrobe and lets Elena read off the scenarios she’s having a bit more trouble with. “Met Gala invitee in 2015.”

Bosley smiles, intrigued. “Interesting. So, without looking at any clothes yet - what do you know? What do you have to look out for?”

Elena clicks her tongue. “Um, the theme in 2015 was China: Through The Looking Glass. So I have to pick something that has a level of Chinese influence to it.”

“Good. What else?”

Silence as Elena scans her assignment again, then looks up at Bosley ruefully. “I’m not sure. I mean, I know it’s the Met Gala, so it has to look _good._ Like, fancy. Dresses have to be floor-length, no flats.”

She’s doing fairly well. Bosley decides to be kind and point her in the right direction. “That’s correct. But you also have to look at the wider context. The Met Gala attracts the biggest names in the media’s eye. Since this is your _infiltration_ module, ostensibly you wouldn’t be coming in via the red carpet, you would be entering by stealthier means and going right into the heart of the action. So try and pick something that wouldn’t draw too much attention to yourself. On-theme, nice to look at, but not flashy and eye-catching to the point where people would remember you if you passed them by.”

Elena nods, typing away at her tablet, looking determined. “Okay. Okay, I can do that. Thanks,” she smiles. “I’ll go pick something. Will you help me take the photo?”

“Sure.” Bosley waits while Elena goes through the wide variety she has to pick from and eventually settles on a very beautiful form-fitting black dress with hints of gold and taking definite inspiration from the cheongsam. Not a bad choice at all. She selects shoes, some accessories, and arranges her hair a little, then declares herself ready. Bosley obligingly takes the camera Elena hands her and looks through the viewfinder. Elena takes a breath, and then poses almost as well as a model might, practically smoldering into the camera. Bosley blinks, a little startled at the sheer heat in her gaze. “Okay, maybe tone it down a little,” she advises. “Remember, _blending in_ , not ‘radiating sex appeal to all and sundry’.”

“Oh, is that the vibe right now? Sorry,” Elena says, sounding not in the least sorry, but she does widen her smile a little, shifting her position so it shows off her curves a bit less. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Bosley says, throat still a little dry as she snaps the requisite pictures. “All right. That’s good. What’s next?”

The next hour is spent looking at Elena through a lens, working outfits that she looks truly excellent in. By the time they get to the last entry - the sex dungeon one, of course, what did she expect? - Bosley’s privately sure she’ll do fine for the assignment, and for all her future missions ahead. Elena’s got nothing to worry about, and neither does she.

It wasn’t until she got promoted that she realised how much more work there was to handle as a Bosley as compared to being an Angel. When she was on the field she just took orders and trusted the voice in her ear - there’s so much more riding on her when she _is_ the voice in someone’s ear. She’s got to be every bit as good as the best Angel on the payroll, and then some. And she wants to do it right. She knows it means something, being the first Angel to become a Bosley. She doesn’t want to be the last, and if that means spending every free hour she has working to be the best version of herself, to teach, to inspire, to lead - she will, if it kills her.

And it might, she swears, if she has to keep up with this new exercise routine Saint cooked up for her. She should _not_ have told him she was feeling a little out of shape after getting two weeks off from duty after the Calisto escapade. That kind of offhand statement is how Angels find themselves on the treadmill on weekday midnights. She supposes the upside is that she gets the gym to herself.

Well, most of the time. When Bosley scans herself in on Thursday evening, Jane’s at the bench press, lifting what must be her own weight. Christ, Jane scares even her sometimes. It’s probably the MI6 thing.

She notices when Bosley enters, briefly glancing over and shooting her a smile. She finishes her reps, then re-racks the weights and jumps up, coming over. “Hey, Boz. Late night session?”

“Yeah. Saint’s orders. You too?”

Jane laughs. “Just felt like it. What’s on the agenda tonight?”

“Strength training. Some core stuff. Maybe a bit of shadowboxing. Why?”

“Shadowboxing, huh,” says Jane, looking interested. “Want to spar with me instead? Seems like it would be more fun.”

Which is how Bosley ends up in the ring with Jane, gloves on and everything. Jane’s excellent, her form and speed unreproachable. Bosley gives as good as she gets, but even she can recognise that Jane is a truly skilled fighter. She took out Hodak single-handedly at Brock’s mansion - Bosley wouldn’t expect anything less. Jane gets her pinned twice, holds her down for ten seconds and doesn’t let her up, all smiles. Paradoxically, it feels like she’s less guarded in a fight than she is anywhere else. Bosley can see the genuine enjoyment and relaxation she feels in the moment, and… it’s nice. Jane’s always been loyal and dedicated and fantastic at what she does, but only after Calisto has she been opening up and thawing to the people around her. Bosley’s glad to see it. She knows, better than anyone, how that could save an Angel’s life one day.

The third time Jane brings her down, Bosley calls the spar, leaning back against the ropes. “I’m going to be bruised as hell tomorrow. Good fight, Jane.”

“Agreed,” Jane replies, unlacing her gloves and setting them aside. She gives Bosley another smile, still warm, but with a little bit of slyness to it. “You can really hold your own, Boz. If you ever need a sparring partner…” She lets the sentence go unfinished, and Bosley isn’t sure why she thinks she can hear something deeper in the offer. “You know who to call.”

And then she’s gone, leaving Bosley more than a little confused, and with that increasingly familiar sense of suspicion setting in.

Huh.

What is all that about?

After she really catches wind of it, little signs start to pop up, well, _everywhere._ Jane’s constant presence in the vicinity, never intruding or imposing but always conveniently there if she needs a sparring partner or a buddy in the hall at dinner or a spotter at the rock wall. Elena dressing up nice - _really_ nice - when she seeks her out for advice and guidance. Sabina dropping more double entendres and then straight-up _winking_ at her.

And when they’re not out on the field (or in Elena’s case, in class) or not doing weird shit like that, they’re huddled together, always by each other’s sides. Bosley would think _dating,_ only their body language doesn’t read like that. She passes them having heated, animated conversations more than once, and then _bolting_ when they notice her eyes on them. She’s pretty sure she sees some weird counter app open on Sabina’s phone once with all three of their names in it and numbers beside them. _SABINA 5, JANE 7, ELENA 10,_ whatever _that_ means.

Bosley takes all the intelligence and mental capacity of Bosleyhood, pairs it with forty years of a life very fully lived, and a conclusion starts to settle in her mind.

She sits down with Saint, alone, in the kitchen, armed with a delicious cocktail and a new shipment of brie, and broaches the thought. “I think Sabina, Elena and Jane might be flirting with me.”

Saint hums, uncorking another bottle of Riesling. “And?”

Bosley frowns mid-sip and puts her glass down. “I’m sorry, I thought you might be a little more surprised.”

“I’m very sorry to disappoint,” he says drily. “What, you just realised?”

“It’s a little strange,” Bosley points out. “Is this some asinine sort of bet, or something? Are they having a competition? Of who can - I don’t know, successfully flirt with me?”

Saint gives her a completely unfazed shrug. “Perhaps. I wouldn’t know. The girls can do some absolutely ridiculous things.” Which is an understatement of major proportions, and Bosley would know. “Perhaps what is more important is how you feel about it. How does it make you feel, Rebekah?”

She thinks about it for approximately two seconds before she has her answer. “Amused, I guess. And pretty damn flattered.” It’s sterling truth. The three of them are smart and intelligent and attractive, and the thought of them actually competing for her favour and her affection is certainly not unpleasant. She can’t complain.

“I would be too,” says Saint, sounding rather entertained. “So, what are you going to do now?”

“Good question,” says Bosley. “I’m going to have to think about that.”

Okay, so maybe she’s a bit of an asshole. She feels a little bad - they’re all terribly adorable in their efforts, and after her eyes are opened and she really sees all their little schemes and the way they’re all clamouring for her attention and basically trying to outrace each other for it, it’s impossible not to feel charmed. Still, they’re Angels. They can take a bit of teasing, especially if the challenge is worth the reward at the end.

It’s simple enough - letting her gaze linger when Jane gets her pinned, or brushing up close when she’s helping Elena with her work, or snapping ready wit right back at Sabina, full of open interpretations, enough to make even _Sabina_ pause. Their huddles start becoming more frequent and more obvious. It’s a little funny.

“You are a bad woman,” Saint tells her. “You know you’ll break their hearts when you eventually have to choose?”

Bosley snorts. “Please. Who needs to _choose?”_

They hold out for a remarkable time, far longer than Bosley would expect. Must be that Angel endurance. And she won't lie, she's waiting pretty impatiently for them to get the hint and stop the competition and just talk to her, but it's entertaining to turn the tables on them for a bit and watch them get a little flushed and flustered. They're cute. She likes them. She likes them a lot. She realises pretty quickly that, competition for her affections or no, they would have reached this point sooner or later anyway. They're obviously all into each other too. The four of them make a good team. In all seriousness, she would give her life for them in a heartbeat, and she thinks they would too. 

This could work, and damn, does she want it to. 

They only confront her - finally! - in her office the evening after Sabina beats her in a race at the stables and Bosley tells her she likes how she rides. Sabina folds her arms and stares at her with Elena and Jane at her shoulders. “How long have you known?”

Bosley doesn’t even pretend at innocence - she supposes this _has_ gone on long enough, and it would be nice to put them out of their misery and make it official. “A while. The three of you aren’t exactly the most subtle people in the world.”

Silence. They glance at each other - Elena bites her lip and glances at Jane, who shrugs. Sabina exhales, looking torn between irritation and confusion. “Okay, well, so… for lack of a better way to put it… who won?”

Bosley raises her eyebrows. “I thought _you_ were keeping track. You had that app on your phone and everything.”

“You saw that? Shit,” says Sabina. Jane groans. “I knew we should have done it on paper and kept it hidden or something.”

“It’s not accurate,” Elena steps in to explain. “After you started, um, responding. Then we couldn’t agree on whether we were succeeding because we were _succeeding_ or because you were just… playing along.”

“Why can’t it be both?” Bosley smiles. “I did think it was fun. Was it not, for you three?”

“It wasn’t just _fun,”_ Jane blurts out, sounding frustrated and almost pained. “I mean - we just thought up the competitive aspect of it because - “ She stops and looks away, clenching her jaw, and Bosley realises, very suddenly, that maybe she should have taken this a bit more seriously. “Please, Boz, just - tell us what you want. What you think.”

But she hears it, the unfinished sentence, clear as day. _Because we didn’t think any of us could actually succeed. Because we didn’t think any of us could actually make you fall in love._

_Just tell us who you want._

“Jane, come here,” she says, and definitely doesn’t miss how Elena goes tense, how Sabina looks away and tries to pretend she doesn’t. “Both of you too.”

The confusion is evident in their expressions as they all gather before her, close enough to touch. Bosley sighs. “You know, you and Saint have it all wrong.”

Elena squints. “Wait, what does Saint have to do with it?”

Bosley reaches out to take her hand and Elena holds it, almost like an instinct. “He told me that I’d break someone’s heart when the time came for me to choose,” she says. “And you three are still standing here wanting to know who _won._ Romance isn’t a competition, you know.”

Sabina goes _eh_ and Jane kicks her lightly in the shin. Bosley can’t help her chuckle. “I like you. A lot.” She meets their eyes, all three of them, making it clear she means _all of you._ “Isn’t that enough?”

Elena’s the first one to get it, the relief and delight blooming on her face. Sabina groans, starting to smile. “Are you serious? You mean we wasted all that time trying to hook up with you individually when we could all have been banging, like, ages ago?”

“You love us,” Jane says, cautious, more a question than anything, still looking like she thinks the rug is going to be pulled out from beneath her feet. Bosley answers by taking her hand and tracing her tattoo with her thumb. “You okay with that?”

Jane laughs, a helpless, happy sound. “God, we’re kind of stupid.”

“It’s only stupid if it doesn’t work out,” Sabina answers, leaning into Bosley’s side. “So, I guess we all win.”

Bosley looks at the three of them, pressed close, smiling wide, hers to call her own now, and grins. “Yes. I think we certainly do.”


End file.
